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Erickson's Urban Waterfall
by Guy Babineau 
"You can't fight City Hall," goes the old adage. Yet the 
Waterfall Building, an innovative urban live/ work 
development in Vancouver, British Columbia, is proof that 
you can fight City Hall — and win. In this case, the city 
wins too. Zoning laws that were relaxed to permit the 
unconventional design will pave the way for similar 
projects in the future. 
This fine example of new urbanism that challenges 
conventional ideas about condominium living was designed 
by the world-renowned Vancouver architect Arthur 
Erickson in collaboration with Nick Milkovich Architects. 
Completed in the fall of 2001, it graces a busy thoroughfare 
in a mixed residential and commercial neighborhood 
adjacent to the downtown core. 
Nearby is popular Granville Island, reclaimed industrial 
land beneath one of the city's main bridges which in the late 
1970s and early 80s was transformed into a bustling 
community of shops, theaters, restaurants, bars, and hotels. 
Directly north across a slender inlet rises a shocking slam 
of city center skyscrapers lorded over by Canada's 
spectacular Coast Mountains, which are responsible for 
strict building codes that enforce view corridors and height 
restrictions. 
The Waterfall Building is actually five separate buildings 
of concrete and glass. They encircle a central courtyard 
featuring a glass atrium that houses the Ballard Lederer 
Gallery. The atrium is book-ended with terraced gardens. 
Other buildings of the complex are connected by metal 
staircases that have a raw, industrial esthetic and by 
cantilevered walkways with glass railings. 
Totaling 60,000 square feet (5600 square meters), the 
Waterfall Building comprises 38 artist studios and 49 split-
level residential units flexibly designed to accommodate 
further add-ons and design considerations by resident 
work-at-home professionals.
 
Upper units are connected to the rooftop by external spiral 
steel staircases. Residents of these spaces also "own" the 
section of rooftop immediately above. The roof, which 
commands a spectacular view of the skyline and 
mountains, is fringed by grass lawn. Exposed cages 
housing the facility's electrical and mechanical equipment 
will soon be covered in vines. 
The facility is equipped with Internet access via a fiber-
optic system 10,000 times faster than cable modem. But 
there are interesting uses of "low-tech" as well. The wide 
open spaces and large windows keep the living and 
working spaces cool in summer. Mild Vancouver winters 
are warmed up by penny-saving radiant hot water 
channeled within the floors. 
"We wanted to get away from typical commercial and 
residential configurations where people have their backs to 
the wall and faces to the view," says Erickson. 
He is referring to the units' multi-directional, M.C. Escher-
like placement of glazed walls and floor-to-ceiling 
windows which capture as much light as possible — pretty 
important in a climate with so many gray days. "We wanted 
to emphasize the freedom of space, openness, and sense of 
community." 
Ever the passionate modernist — and anti-postmodernist — 
Erickson drew inspiration for such communal openness 
from the fifty-year-old Unite d'Habitation by Le Corbusier. 
A Role in the City 
The building gets its name from an Erickson-designed 
waterfall of recirculated water that plunges down in the 
middle of the main street-level entrance. This embodies his 
stated belief that as well as fulfilling function, architecture 
should offer visitors and passers-by a rewarding 
experience. 
A further benefit of the waterfall is sound masking. Step 
past it into the complex's central courtyard, and you can 
hardly hear the buzz of traffic or hum of industry. 
The developer, Steven Hynes, once taught philosophy at 
the Simon Fraser University campus, which was also 
designed by Erickson. Hynes was interested in creating a 
new kind of community, a lifestyle laboratory addressing 
the 21st century requirements of the city's growing number 
of creative entrepreneurs, including artists, designers, 
filmmakers, gallery owners, PR specialists, writers, 
producers, and so on. 
The building is an example of visionary architecture that 
simultaneously — and successfully — addresses high-
density issues, transit and transportation problems, 
topography and light, and access to digital 
communications.
Bending the Rules for Good Design 
Because of the design's community-conscious amenities, 
Vancouver's senior planners gave it several exceptions to 
local zoning laws. For instance, the Waterfall Building is 
taller than the 40-foot(12-meter) height restriction normally 
enforced in this part of the city. The overage was allowed 
because of all the building's community-conscious 
amenities. 
The planners also permitted higher live/ work ratios. 
Normally, the law allows up to 30 percent residential in 
such a facility. This and another building by the same 
developer were responsible for safety-conscious city 
planners allowing any combination of residential and 
commercial occupancies. The officials now hope to see 
more projects of a similar nature. 
Vancouver's metropolitan population has doubled in the 
last 30 years to about 2.2 million living on a very limited 
land area, so density is a big issue. Expo 86, an enormous 
influx of people from Asia before Hong Kong's reversion to 
China in 1997, and the city's recent incarnation as the 
continent's third-largest film and TV production center, 
have all contributed to the boom — and an urban planning 
nightmare. The city now has more cars per capita than Los 
Angeles. 
Strategies for Accommodating Growth 
The problem is that many don't want to admit that 
Vancouver is no longer a bucolic backwater, a playground 
getaway of sea and ski. Cranes hover on the skyline, piling 
one layer of matchbox units atop another and contributing 
to a new cluster of lackluster glass curtain-wall buildings 
that conjure up "The Jetsons," a 1960s cartoon vision of the 
future.
During the growth spurt, rather than creating mixed-use 
architecture to respond to the city's dramatically beautiful 
geography and rain-filtered light, most developers threw up 
their hands in frustration, laziness, or cheapness and erected 
unimaginative, plain, repetitive edifices, perhaps hoping 
that being conventional meant being unobtrusive. 
The opposite effect occurred. A rash of bleak apartment 
blocks went up in the 1960s and 70s. At the time, visiting 
urban theorist Jane Jacobs called Vancouver "drab." 
This drabness was in stark contrast to the city's older 
residential neighborhoods where, as in most west coast 
American cities, a Disneyish cacophony of different styles 
and "isms" are jumbled together: sleek modernist homes, 
ranchstyle bungalows, miniature fairytale castles, and 
traditional Prairie Style residences. Adding to this diversity 
are decades worth of Erickson-designed buildings, such as 
the three-block long complex, Robson Square. 
"I think that's been one of Vancouver's assets," says 
Erickson. "Its lack of conformity and, as a result, an 
openness to new ideas." He thinks that the future resides 
here, citing the city's notable Asian connection and 
proximity. (He and many local architects are hard at work 
on projects in China.) 
City planners have been vigilant about rules and regulations 
with respect to the city's natural environment and views. In 
the case of live/ work spaces, safety issues come first. Yet, 
says Erickson, "If you're committed you can convince 
people here to do something different." 
The proof is in projects like the Waterfall Building. Jane 
Jacobs visited Vancouver this past January and had a 
change of heart. She said it would be a nice place to live. 
Originally published on ArchitectureWeek.com

© Guy Babineau 2003-2004
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